


To Sir, With Love

by firenewt



Category: Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst and Humor, Cute, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:43:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3598548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firenewt/pseuds/firenewt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tseng remembers his first day with Cissnei, while attending her graduation as a Turk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Sir, With Love

**Author's Note:**

> There were two inspirations for this story. The first is the song "To Sir, With Love", sung by Lulu, which totally makes me think of Tseng and Cissnei and how complex their relationship is, and what Cissnei's background could be. The second is the oath of allegiance taken by members of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, because I was wondering what kind of oath Turks and SOLDIERs might have to take, and this one seemed appropriate. After all, Mounties have cool uniforms, and, like the Turks, they always get their man!
> 
> I based most of the Turk oath directly on the RCMP oath and give full credit to that reference. 
> 
> Also, Maur is apparently the name given to Martial Arts (Male) in the production sketches for Last Order - Final Fantasy VII, so I used that name for him.
> 
> And a special thanks to ZiggyPasta and Soyna, who listen and inspire me all the time!
> 
> Disclaimer: Thanks to Square Enix for letting me play in their world.

Tseng stood at parade rest, his hands clasped behind his back, his feet spread slightly apart. Behind him, President Shinra rose from his chair, pressing a button on the intercom. “Send them in,” he said. He straightened and stepped out from behind his desk to stand next to Tseng. 

“Only two this time?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Tseng said. 

The door opened at the far end of the office and there was a moment of shuffling while several people sorted themselves out. The President squinted across the vast expanse of carpet. “I hope these ones last longer than the previous bunch,” he muttered. 

“I’m confident they will,” Tseng said serenely, although in truth he wasn’t so sure. Good recruits were hard to find. The number that made it through the rigorous training process was even fewer. And, of course, being a Turk was a high-risk profession. It was always a challenge to keep the ranks filled with quality people. And it was painful to lose even one member of such a tightly knit family as theirs.

“Good,” the President said. “I hate seeing my investments go to waste.”

“Yes, sir,” Tseng said. His Turks were much more than “investments” to him, and he pushed down a flash of annoyance at the callus attitude of his boss. 

A small group started across the huge rug that bore the Shin-Ra crest. At the end of their training, graduates attended a short private ceremony where they took an oath to the company and to the Shinras, and received their designated name and weapon. Each new Turk was accompanied by a sponsor, usually a more senior Turk or executive who would vouch for them personally as well as professionally. The President had the authority to veto the final acceptance of any recruit, although that had never happened yet. He trusted the judgment of his directors, and a recruit that was not suitable was usually weeded out long before the oath-taking ceremony. But that didn’t stop him from occasionally questioning or making remarks. After all, these were men and women who would be closely guarding his life, the life of his family and the secrets of his company, and he had no qualms about voicing his opinions. 

First came Maur, accompanied by Katana. Tseng was pleased with this new member of his team. A bit on the older side, his intelligence and dedication would be an asset. Even though he was a new Turk, his life experience provided a good background and balance, and Tseng was looking forward to working with him. 

The other pair followed behind them. Beside Veld walked a girl, her head up and shoulders back; as they came closer, Tseng met Veld’s eyes. The older man smiled slightly at him, and Tseng knew they were sharing a sense of déjà vu. Tseng heard the President shift and grunt slightly. “Are we scraping the bottom of the barrel so much that we’re accepting children now, Tseng?”

“Cissnei is young, sir, yes, but I assure you, she is fully trained. If she was not ready for duty, she would not be here. As you can see, Veld is her sponsor. We have both personally overseen her training, and will guarantee her excellence.” Tseng and Veld had had many discussions as to whether Cissnei was too young and should be held back another year. They knew her maturity as well as her ability would be questioned. And they knew bringing her to the attention of the President this way could be dangerous for her and for them. But they had come to the conclusion that it would be unfair to prevent her from graduating when she had proven herself ready, and that she deserved a chance to take her place with the others Turks as she was so eager to do.

The recruits came to a stop before the President, their sponsors standing two steps behind their right shoulders. Both Turks kept their eyes forward and stared straight ahead, their new black suits spotless, shoes polished to a mirror finish, white cuffs bright and crisp and their ties perfectly aligned. Maur was calm and centered, but Cissnei seemed to vibrate with suppressed energy and excitement. 

President Shinra appeared lost in thought. “Cissnei, eh? The one from the orphanage?” 

Cissnei’s expression didn’t change but her cheeks flushed darkly. Tseng silently willed her to keep her mouth shut and her temper in check. With a mental shrug, he realized that if she couldn’t control herself in this unexpected situation, with a deliberate comment thrown out and followed by a cruelly appraising stare that raked her from head to toe, then she was not ready to be a Turk. In effect, this was her final test. 

“Yes, sir.” Tseng said neutrally, and left it at that. Her origins were not irrelevant; everyone here except Maur knew that, but it was not the time or place to discuss it.

“Hmm.” The President pursed his lips and blew, puffing out his moustache like a cranky walrus. “Get on with it then,” he said, and leaned his butt back against his desk. 

Cissnei and Maur glanced sideways at each other, and then Cissnei took a deep breath. Her soft, light voice shook a little as she started to speak, then quickly gained strength…. _I solemnly swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Shin-Ra and Randall Shinra, his heirs and successors according to the laws set out._

She glanced at Tseng, her eyes full of happiness and pride, and then she focused on the President again and continued…. _I solemnly swear that I will faithfully, diligently and impartially execute and perform the duties required of me as a member of the Department of Administrative Research , and will well and truly obey and perform all lawful orders and instructions that I receive, without fear, favor or affection of or towards any person._

As her head moved slightly, her hair flashed rich red in the light, and Tseng was caught in memory…..

 

It was a cold, grey, windy day in March when he stood in the courtyard of one of the many orphanages in the slums. Veld had called him there, and he was a little annoyed at being pulled away from a busy day to come all the way down to this sector. And now he was cold and hungry as well. He hoped this wouldn’t take long.

A door closed and he turned to see Veld exiting a low building. An older Wutaian woman, well wrapped against the weather, stood in the doorway watching him leave. Beside him was a tiny round child; the mass of red-gold curls crowning her head was the only bright spot in the yard. Veld kept his steps slower and his stride shorter to accommodate the little legs. As Tseng watched them come, his impatience flared again and he wondered why Veld didn’t just pick the girl up and move faster. 

“Well, Tseng, I finally found our elusive little ladybug.” 

“I beg your pardon, sir?” 

Veld shook his head slightly at Tseng. “We’ll talk later. I’ve spoken to the proctor here, the paperwork is done and Cissnei is now ours. Right, Cissnei?”

The child said nothing, just stood with one hand way above her head in the older Turk’s grip, and her other arm held tightly across her middle. It was an awkward position but she seemed unconcerned. The dark grey clothes she wore were badly worn: hems and cuffs were frayed, most of the padding in the short coat was gone, and there were holes in the knees of the loose pants that flapped in the wind. Even her shoes were cracked along the outer edges and one was missing a strap. Her large dark eyes stared at Tseng rather vacantly. Then he noticed how tightly Veld seemed to be holding her hand.

And then that hand was extended towards him. “Alright, Tseng. Here you go. I have another meeting, so I’ll leave her with you. Don’t lose her.”

Tseng was shocked. “What?! But, sir! I…I’m busy! And…I’m not a…a babysitter!” 

Veld took Tseng’s hand, carefully transferred a sticky little paw into it, folded his fingers down, let go and stepped back. He looked amused. The usually inscrutable Wutaian was not an easy man to fluster. “Don’t worry, Tseng. You’re doing just fine with Rufus. And when you’ve had one, the second one is easier.” He grinned at the younger man, turned and strode away. 

Tseng was left standing with his unwanted companion. The woman had gone back indoors and they were alone. The wind swirled dust and debris around them. He was cold and busy and now he was stuck with a child to take care of in addition to all his other duties. Another child! What was he, a nanny?! What a waste of his abilities and training! This was not what he had signed on for! If he had wanted to deal with a bunch of snotty-nosed brats he would have stayed in his village in Wutai and had ten or twelve of his own! His anger grew and unconsciously his fists tightened. There was a squeak from the level of his knee. He looked down. The girl was quiet again but now there was a flicker of fear on her face. 

He immediately loosened his grip, feeling ashamed. He shouldn’t let his emotions get away from him like this. This was very unlike him. And it wasn’t the child’s fault. He sighed. Well. He had his orders. He might as well deal with her as quickly as possible so he could get back to work. His mouth tightened. His real work.

The tall Turk stooped to pick her up. No sense wasting time. He wasn’t about to wait for her to toddle all the way to the car when he could carry her and be there in a few seconds. Veld might be willing to move at her pace; after all, he had a daughter himself. But Tseng was a man of action, not a parent.

He straightened, bringing her up to set close to his shoulder, and immediately both child and man recoiled from each other. She shoved hard against his chest, pushing herself back in his arms and unbalancing him with her unexpected move. He got a noseful of a horrible sour smell, like vomit and old cheese, and gasped, his head jerking back. She took advantage of his surprise: her arms went up and she slithered through his grasp and down him like she was sliding down a tree, and then scampered off across the cobblestones before his watering eyes cleared.

Still gagging, he stumbled after her, and managed to overtake her before she made it to a small niche between buildings where she would fit but he wouldn’t. He scooped her up, careful this time to just tuck her under one arm and keep her away from his face. But even then, he suddenly felt a pain in his side and looked down to find her head buried in his coat as she bit down as hard as she could and hung on like a little terrier. 

Tseng growled at her and shook her to make her let go. She growled back and bit harder. Dammit, he knew he was going to have a nasty bruise there by morning! Rufus had never bitten him, at least not after he was done teething, but Tseng knew how to handle this. He reached down with his other hand and pinched her nose shut. She squirmed hard, trying to kick him, but only succeeded in wrinkling his jacket before she had to let go and breathe. Tseng immediately turned her sideways, so she was facing out, snugged her hard against his hip and snarled at her. “No biting!” He wanted to add _you little brat!_ But he was accustomed to dealing with Rufus’ temper tantrums; he controlled himself and reminded himself that he was the adult in this situation. 

Wincing a little at the pain in his side, he strode quickly to the waiting car. In one smooth move he tossed the child into the back seat; slammed the door; jumped into the front; and engaged the safety locks at the same time as he raised the safety shield between the front and back seats. Then he sat for a moment and looked at her in the rear view mirror. 

He could see she was at the far door, trying to get it open. When that didn’t work, she lay back and kicked the door with her little feet, pounding on it in a small fury. Finally she lay panting on the seat, staring at the roof of the car. Tseng sighed and reached to start the engine. 

And then he realized she was pulling the fabric off the ceiling, digging into it and ripping strips away. “Stop that!” he barked. She paused, her hand in the hole she had created, and looked at him. Their eyes met in the mirror. She bared her teeth at him and went back to wrenching off the ceiling material in angry yanks. Tseng stepped on the gas and accelerated hard, hoping to throw her off balance and get her to settle down. He knew, even if she didn’t, that she couldn’t get out that way. So he let her flail around in the back while he drove to HQ with gritted teeth and hands clenching the wheel. 

It was a long ride from the outskirts of the slums to the upper plate. By the time they pulled into the underground garage, it was quiet in the back seat, and Tseng had the window rolled down trying to escape the stench that filled the vehicle. He felt physically ill, and wondered what in the hells was causing the smell. Orphanages were notorious for being less than clean, and he could see Cissnei’s clothes were crusted with filth. But this went beyond just the smell of dirt and sweat, especially for a young child. He decided the first stop for his new charge would be the infirmary for a full check-up and a bath.

Inwardly he cursed Veld again for leaving him with this hellion. Obviously his senior knew what to expect, the way he had been hanging onto her, but had not seen fit to warn him. Tseng wondered if this was some sort of test and if he was being monitored. He wouldn’t put such a thing past Veld. But regardless, he would do his best whatever the assignment, and for now that meant making sure the child was properly cared for. 

He had also regained some of his mental equilibrium. It was not seemly to lose his temper with a youngster, especially one who had obviously not been taught proper behavior or manners. Tseng decided that he would approach her as he would an undisciplined Guard Hound puppy. Proper care for the body; a calm environment for her brain; consistent clear messages for training; and positive reinforcement for cooperation. One had to build a bond of trust with an animal before it would cooperate, and it had to feel safe before it would trust. Perhaps that method would work. 

And if not, he could always drug her. 

Feeling a bit happier with a plan of action in place, Tseng cautiously opened the back door and fished the tired child out. He had her in a body lock again before she could respond, and, with her firmly tucked under his arm, he marched into HQ.

The nurses in the infirmary gathered in a little cluster around him. “Oohh, what a little angel!” “Isn’t she cute!” “Where did you find her?” “Is she sick?”

Tseng singled out the senior nurse, a matronly woman who still wore the old-fashioned traditional white cap with a red cross on it. “I want a full physical report on her. And get her cleaned up. I suggest you have at least one orderly on hand at all times while working with her. Don’t leave her alone for a second. And lock the door of whatever room she’s in. If she gets away, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

The nurse cast a doubtful eye on the tiny girl. However, she had been with Shin-Ra a long time. Appearances could be very deceiving, and when a Turk gave orders, one took them seriously, however unreasonable they sounded. “Yes, sir. Um, is she…is she from the labs?”

“No,” Tseng said, peeling Cissnei off his side and sitting her on a gurney. A large male orderly appeared and stood by her. She seemed despondent and sat quietly, holding her arms against her middle again. Tseng stepped away cautiously. He was beginning to think that droopy look was a façade to lull people into a false sense of security. However, the infirmary staff were warned, and experienced in dealing with all sorts of unpredictable people. If they could handle psychotic SOLDIERs and Rufus, surely they could handle a three-year-old from the slums. 

“Call me when you’re done with her,” he said, and left them to it.

Finally, Tseng was able to get back to his other duties, and spent a productive afternoon. Only one call interrupted him. It was hard to hear the nurse. There was a high pitched screaming wail in the background; it sounded like an alarm was going off. He thought he understood “clothes” “burn” and “lice” before there was a metallic crash. He recognized that sound. It was a mayo stand and whatever was on it hitting the floor. Glass shattered, he heard a man shouting and the wail turned into a shriek that hurt his ear so much he had to pull the phone away from his head. “Do what you need to,” he said, and hung up. 

He briefly massaged his temples, feeling a headache starting and his skin crawling. Then he went to take a shower and change his suit.

It was late when he finally went to pick Cissnei up. As he approached the nurses’ station, all seemed calm. No one was there. He waited for a few minutes, then called out “Hello? I’m here for the girl.”

“Just a minute!”

There was a squeak of rubber soles and the senior nurse brought Cissnei through a swinging door. The nurse’s cap was askew and her sleeves were rolled up above her elbows and her forearms were red. She handed Tseng a folder and then looked down at Cissnei. “You go with Mr. Tseng again, sweetie. He’ll take good care of you. But you can come back and visit us again, alright?”

Cissnei’s lower lip stuck out. She turned to Tseng and the vacant stare was gone. She glared at him and her little face was dark as a thundercloud. Someone had found her a white jumpsuit and a black sweater. He recognized them as Rufus’ castoffs. Both were huge on her but fit better than an adult’s clothing. And they were clean. But her hair…those lovely red curls had been cut off, leaving ragged stubble, and her scalp was shaved bald in some places. Her ears stuck out and her neck looked thin and vulnerable. She was quivering in rage and he didn’t blame her.

“Was that necessary?” he asked the nurse. 

“We did call you,” she said a bit defensively. “She was so badly infested it would have taken hours to try and comb out all the nits. That is _if_ she sat still.” She passed a gentle hand over the unsightly mess. Cissnei jerked her head away and went to stand next to Tseng. “It will grow back, sweetie, we told you that,” the nurse sighed. “You’ll feel better without all those nasty bugs.”

Cissnei avoided her gaze and looked down.

“Was that the smell?” Tseng asked.

“No.” The nurse nodded at the file. “You have the results of her exam there. Besides being infested, she was filthy. I swear, I have not seen a child that dirty for decades! She couldn’t tell me when she was last bathed. It seemed a new experience for her, poor thing. The water scared her badly. But most of the smell was coming from her clothes. Again, I have no idea when they were last cleaned. I think she wore them all the time. They were full of dirt and…manure,” the nurse said delicately, and wrinkled her nose. “And she had food stuffed in the pockets. Whatever it was, it was rotten and moldy, but she fought tooth and nail to hang onto that jacket. We had to give her a little sedation to get it away from her.”

Cissnei’s lip quivered and a couple of fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She sniffed quietly and Tseng watched her arm move into that peculiar position against her abdomen again. He sniffed, too, and could only smell disinfectant this time. That was good.

“Alright,” he said. “Thank you. I will take her now.” He leaned down to take her hand, not wishing to chase her around HQ. Who knew where she might end up!

“Come,” he steered her toward the elevator. “You will stay in my quarters tonight. Then we will find a more permanent place for you tomorrow.”

Tseng stepped into the elevator and teetered at the sudden drag on his arm. Cissnei had put one foot in, then hauled back like a dog resisting a leash. He closed his hand firmly around hers and just lifted, frog-jumping her inside in one motion and letting her hang in midair while the doors closed. Then he set her down but braced his legs and kept a firm grip as the machine jerked into motion. 

Cissnei whimpered as they whooshed up. Her legs buckled as it came to a stop; she lost her balance and would have fallen if Tseng hadn’t had a hold of her. When the doors opened he had to drag her out. She wobbled along beside him down the hall to his quarters. 

As they stepped inside, Tseng was enveloped in the familiar faint smell of incense and the slightly cooler air of his home, and immediately felt comforted. That was followed by a pang of anxiety at having this small invader in his private haven. He stood for a second, looking around with a different perspective. Instead of things peacefully arranged to aid meditation and promote a zen-like peace, he saw potential disasters waiting at several points. 

“First, we always take off our shoes right here, at the door,” he said, taking his own off and toeing them out of the way. Cissnei had been given surgical foot covers to protect her feet and she followed his example, pushing them over to sit by his shoes.

“Very good. You may look around while I make us some dinner.” Tseng dropped her hand and quickly moved to gather up a delicate antique porcelain vase from its stand near the door, and his bonsai tree from the living room table, and take them both into the kitchen with him. He put them in a high cupboard for the time being and closed the door firmly. Then he busied himself getting out the ingredients for miso soup while he kept a close eye on his tiny houseguest.

Cissnei stood uncertainly where he had left her. Her back was against the door and her hands wrung together as she took things in, as instructed. Then, slowly, glancing at Tseng every few seconds, she moved away from her post, drifting around the edges of the apartment, occasionally reaching out to touch something very gingerly. 

Tseng kept his quarters in traditional Wutaian décor. There were tatami mats on the floor, and a low table to sit and eat at, several cushions, and a glass-sided sand table in the corner. Besides the now-safe vase, there were a few other austere yet decorative items on small tables, and some prints on the walls.

Cissnei came up against the sand table. She was just tall enough to see over the edge. She gripped the edge of the glass and her nose and lips pressed against it as she stared in open-mouthed wonder at the different coloured sands raked into soothing patterns. Carefully she reached over the edge and dipped one finger into the sand, stirring it a bit, then pinching a bit up to feel. Then she turned loose and moved on, leaving sticky prints and a moist spot of drool on the glass. Tseng winced and made a mental note to buy more cleaning supplies.

Tseng heard a faint clatter and turned quickly from reaching into the fridge to see Cissnei dipping into the pottery dish of water-worn rocks that he had collected over the years. The dish itself was heavy and glazed a beautiful deep turquoise, and the rocks were of various sizes, shapes and colours. Cissnei picked out a greenish one, and before Tseng could move, popped it into her mouth. Tseng was still trying to process this when she spit it out and put it back in the bowl. He shook his head; he couldn’t remember Rufus trying to eat rocks, but maybe he’d just missed that phase. 

In any case, she had already found the stick of incense in its holder and pulled at it, breaking it in two. She smelled at the broken end, and was about to lick it when she started to sneeze. Little kitten-like sneezes rocked her back on her heels. She dropped the incense and her face screwed up… _choo! choo!_ Tseng stifled a chuckle. He had a feeling laughing at her would not go over well. Instead he checked the rice.

Cissnei rubbed her hand under her itchy running nose and wiped it on her pants, sniffling. Tseng looked up from chopping to see her disappearing down the hall. Hastily he put down his knife and went after her. He hadn’t thought to Cissnei-proof the rest of the apartment. There was the sound of the toilet lid snapping closed and a faint “ow” and Tseng peeked into the bathroom to see her pulling her hand out from under the lid. She looked up at him guiltily and shrank back into the space between the toilet and the tub.

“Do you have to go?” he asked, mentally kicking himself. This was another thing he had not considered: it was one thing to toilet-train a boy, but a girl was something he was not familiar with!

She shook her head, her big eyes on him, and her fingers crept up to her mouth. “No!” he exclaimed, just as she was about to suck on them. He leaped forward and grabbed her hand away from her face. Her eyes shot even wider in fear and suddenly there was an audible dripping sound. Tseng closed his eyes and counted to ten. It was his fault. Don’t scare the puppy. He should have known what would happen. 

He crouched down to make himself smaller and kept his voice low. “It’s okay, accidents happen, it’s okay. Come out of there, alright?” He waited. No movement. “Please. Come here, Cissnei. Good girl, come here.” He felt a little silly, but hey, whatever worked.

She edged out a bit, just enough for him to draw her carefully to where he could work with her. He remembered what the nurse had said about her being afraid of the bath, and decided it wasn’t worth trying to put her into the tub again tonight. Holding her wrist with one hand, he managed to find a couple of washcloths and a towel, and wet the cloths with warm water under the sink tap. He could feel her pulling away from him, but didn’t let her go, just calmly got what he needed. He debated shutting the bathroom door so she couldn’t see any route to escape, but the thought occurred to him that she might panic more if she thought she was trapped. So instead, he left the door open, knelt and brought her close, using his free hand to slowly peel off the sweater and then the wet jumpsuit, then gently washing her bottom and legs clean and drying them. 

Tseng kept his face impassive. He was a silent man by nature, not very demonstrative in anger or in joy, and that stood him in good stead now. He could feel the small body trembling and kept one hand on her arm or wrist at all times to prevent her from flying away, but also to provide an anchor for her. An anchor that said I am here, I am calm, feel that my intentions are not to hurt but to help, you are safe. In keeping with his Hound theory, he knew that animals could sense another’s intent toward them, and that maintaing physical contact often helped calm them. Hopefully it would work with Cissnei.

He had not had a chance to read the records from the infirmary, but he heard what the nurse had said about the state of her clothes and body. Now he could see that for himself. Her ribs stuck out, her arms and legs were thin and her pot belly reminded him of the malnourished and parasite-ridden children he had seen in poor areas of Wutai and in the Midgar slums. Scratches and bruises covered her knees and lower legs, her elbows and upper arms and her right side. 

The Turk knew what defensive injuries looked like. Now he realized the wounds on her knuckles were also the result of her being on the offensive. Tseng felt a glimmer of admiration: she was a tough little ladybug. Scabs on her hands and knees that had been scrubbed off earlier in the day were reforming, and there was a strange greenish brown ring around her middle that didn’t seem to be a bruise but more of a stain. He would look at the medical notes and see what they had to say. 

But for now, it was enough just to get her clean and dry. She stood passively, shivering and not looking at him, and now Tseng was faced with the dilemma of what to dress her in, since the only clothes she had were soiled. He thought for a moment, and then stood. “You need something to wear,” he said, “and you may see where you will sleep tonight.”

They stepped across the hall to the bedroom and Tseng showed her the futon covered with a thick duvet. He pulled a t-shirt out of his wardrobe and knelt again to put it on her. Her bald head poked out the top and she helped by putting her arms through the sleeves as best she could. It was longer than a nightgown on her, and he removed the drawstring from a pair of sweatpants and used it as a belt to pull some of the material through so it wouldn’t drag on the floor. “Perfect,” he said, not expecting any response.

Cissnei fingered the shirt, and then slowly reached out on her own and took his hand. She stood there quietly, waiting.

Tseng cocked his head and looked at her. He was wondering if some sort of verbal acknowledgement of her gesture was needed when he smelled burning. The moment was gone; he dropped her hand and raced to the kitchen to save the soup. 

When he had finished dealing with the culinary crisis, he found Cissnei leaning against the side of the cupboard, watching him, sucking on the fingers of one hand and with the other arm against her stomach. He sighed. He had forgotten to wash her hands while he was washing other parts of her. Well. He kept a clean house, and somehow, after watching her explore, he was sure she had survived having worse things in her mouth. 

But now it was time for some real food. He was hungry, too. He served each of them a bowl of miso soup and a bowl of rice. He made himself tea and poured the child a glass of water. Tseng settled on a pillow at the low table, but Cissnei hung back. He patted the pillow beside him. “Come, Cissnei,” he coaxed. “It’s time to eat. Aren’t you hungry?”

He could see her swallow, but she shook her head. Tseng made another mental note. She denied her basic needs.

So he took a different tack. His voice became firm instead of wheedling. “Cissnei, it is time to eat. Come here and sit down now.” He pointed to the pillow, stared at her meaningfully, and then picked up his chopsticks and began to eat his dinner. 

After a minute, Cissnei appeared next to him, struggling a bit with her t-shirt dress until she hiked it up and got her legs sorted out. Tseng nodded at the food in front of her. “Eat,” he ordered.

She picked up the chopsticks, one in each hand, glancing at him and then at the utensils, trying to figure them out. Tseng raised a brow. Children of her age in his village used the chopsticks quite well. Not perfectly, but they knew what they were for and managed. This child had no idea. She dug them around in the rice, scattering grains on the table, and nearly knocked over her soup. Her cheeks became flushed and Tseng could see tears in her eyes.

Deliberately he put his sticks down, picked up his soup bowl and drank. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl watch him, let go of the chopsticks and pick up her own bowl. At least she could do that. She took a few sips, lowered the bowl to look around guiltily and up at him, then dove in to drink more. Tseng continued with his own meal, eating slowly and carefully, using his chopsticks with exaggerated movements. Every time he glanced at her, Cissnei would stop eating and pretend that she wasn’t interested in the food. When he turned away he could see her with his peripheral vision, quickly cramming as much into her mouth as she could while she had the chance.

When Tseng was finished, he sat and drank his tea, making a point of ignoring the child to give her time to work her way through her meal uninterrupted. He read slowly through the medical chart on his new charge. He lingered over the description of the mark he had seen around Cissnei’s middle. The doctor confirmed his opinion that it was not a bruise, and commented that he had seen such discolourations on cadets who had worn the leather parts of their uniforms next to their skin without clothing to protect them. Tseng was also familiar with the kinds of marks leather could leave on a body, although for different reasons than the doctor. He stared blankly at the page, trying not to think of how and why a three-year-old girl would be wearing a broad piece of leather around her waist for a long enough time to stain her skin and develop an unconscious habit of holding her arms against the area as if to support or soothe it. 

Finally he took a deep breath and made some notes on a tablet. He had a list of things to get tomorrow. Milk, vitamins and more groceries. Clothes that would fit and be easy for her to get in and out of. Something pink would be nice. And panties. Maybe ones with little ruffles on the butt. A potty: he thought Rufus’ old one was in storage somewhere, but if not, a new one. And a step-stool for eventually getting up on the toilet. Child-proof fasteners for the cupboards and doors, and plug protectors. Shoes. He looked down at her patchy head. And some hats. And a brush. 

He realized with a start that he was actually looking forward to when her hair grew back and he could comb it and put it in little pigtails and braids. Buying clothes and accessories was not something he had done with Rufus. Somehow he had a feeling things would be very different with this child.

Oblivious to the thoughts going through her caretaker’s mind, Cissnei chased the last bits of tofu around her soup bowl and fished them out with her fingers and ate them all. The chopsticks were completely abandoned. The rice was next; she pulled the bowl close and cleaned it out, in between vigilantly checking on what Tseng was doing, then carefully picked up every last grain on the table. It took her a long time, but finally she had them all.

Tseng was contemplating where he should recommend this child stay in HQ, if she was to be here long-term, and it sounded like Veld had that in mind. She didn’t have a nanny and her own quarters like Rufus did. The only other youngster currently living in the building was Sephiroth, and he also had his own quarters that were not suitable for a child of her age. Perhaps he should look into setting up a crèche: if there were employees who might want to bring their children to work it would be good for her to have other children around to interact with. Tseng watched her trying to pick up a grain of rice with all four fingers and her thumb.

He also needed to talk with Veld, and find out just why he had gone to such lengths to find Cissnei and bring her out of the orphanage. Who was she? What were his plans for her? Tseng made another note, glanced down again and found the child in question gone. Alarmed, he scanned the room, starting to get up. Where was she! She had been here just a moment ago and there was nowhere else to go!

Then he saw an arm and bent to find her half under the table. Exhaustion had finally caught up with her and she had fallen asleep abruptly, like a puppy, and keeled over, sliding down the pillow and disappearing. Well. At least this saved him the trouble of trying to get her to admit she was tired. He pulled her gently out and was about to pick her up when he saw the rice spilling out of her clenched fists. Since she had no pockets anymore, she was hanging on to it the only way she could. 

Tseng felt a wave of sorrow, that in her brief time on the Planet this tiny child had already been exposed to circumstances that had marked her body and mind; that she did not know basic manners or hygiene; that she hoarded food like a starving squirrel, and reacted like an animal when it was taken away. Fear and guile ruled her. Just because he had chosen to become a Turk did not mean he was without feeling; no child should have to live without trust or love or safety. He wondered if she had room in her heart for such emotions. He hoped it was not too late for her to learn.

Tseng found a baggie in the kitchen. Carefully, he made sure that every last bit of rice was safely transferred to it, and added some more from his own bowl. He wiped her face and hands, sealed the bag and then lifted her into his arms. This time, she lay limp against him, and this time, he could smell only the scent of a clean baby. And the disinfectant lice soap. But he could stand that.

As he moved to take her to the bedroom and place her on the futon while he cleaned up, he felt her arms come around his neck and a little voice murmur “amah?”

Tseng wanted to smile again. “No, child, my name is Tseng. But I will take care of you. If you’ll let me.”

Cissnei sighed. “…yeth, Thong.”

This time Tseng had to actually bite his lip, partly in hilarity, partly in horror at what he could envision happening if anyone heard her call him that. He’d never live it down!

“Yes, Cissnei, my name is Tseng, but you may call me sir.”

There was a pause and Tseng was ready to panic. What if this little red-haired she-devil decided not to listen to him?! But she sniffled a little, sighed again, and he heard a faint “yeth, thir” as sleep took her deep and away.

Tseng sighed also, in relief, and tucked her and her baggie of rice into bed.

 

And now, thirteen years later, Tseng could still hear a very faint lisp in her voice, if he listened hard enough. Or perhaps if he wished hard enough. He supposed he should be proud, seeing this strong, confident, lovely young woman following in his footsteps, as she had aspired to do for so many years. But somehow hearing her pledge herself to the man and the company to whom he had chosen to dedicate his life left a hollow feeling in his heart. An emptiness. A loss.

…. _I solemnly swear that I will keep absolutely secret all knowledge and information of which I may become possessed through my position with the Department of Administrative Research ; that I will not, without due authority in that behalf, discuss with members of the Shin-Ra Company, or any other person, either by word or by letter, any matter which may come to my notice through my employment with the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company._

…. _I solemnly swear to dedicate my life to the good of the Shin-Ra Company, Randall Shinra, his heirs and successors, and to uphold my duty with honour and integrity at all times._

Cissnei finished her oath and stood trembling in anticipation. The President picked up a large shuriken from his desk, and handed it to her. She took it carefully, almost reverently, in both hands, her face glowing. President Shinra said, “I accept your oath and your life, Turk Shuriken, on behalf of myself, my son and this company.” 

Cissnei stepped back, and Maur moved forward for his turn. Veld’s hand appeared briefly on Cissnei’s shoulder. He gave it a slight squeeze in congratulations and acknowledgment, and met Tseng’s eyes again over the girl’s head. _We did a good job_ , he seemed to say.

Within a few minutes, the ceremony was complete. Within that time, Tseng had relived a lifetime. Cissnei’s lifetime. Suddenly he felt very old, and tired, and trapped.

The newly minted Turks turned to exit the room and begin their service. But then Cissnei whirled back, stepping quickly to Tseng and throwing her arms around him, careful not to lose her grip on her new weapon, or to hurt him with it. She stood on tiptoe and snudged her cheek against his chin, which was as high as she could reach. She hugged him tight. 

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered. “Thank you so much!”

And then she was gone, skipping lightly down the carpet with Veld in tow, catching up with Martial Arts and Katana.

The President followed her progress with interest and speculation. Then he turned to Tseng, catching a slight smile on the Turk's face. “Best make good use of those two, Tseng,” he said. “I see a lot of potential there.” He went back behind his desk, sat heavily and took out a cigar. “Hmm, yes. Alot of potential, he muttered. He narrowed his eyes and bit down on the cigar. "Bring me a scotch,” he said around the tobacco, as he lit a match with a flick of his wrist.

Tseng felt like he had suddenly been plunged into shadow. He suppressed a shiver, and reality crashed down on his shoulders. “Yes, sir.”


End file.
